We did not know exactly what ailed the girl.  The blood trickled through her hair, but we could not see whence it came; it formed oily blotches all over it and ran down into her neck.  The garde, our interpreter, bade her remove the cotton band she wore on her head, and her tresses tumbled down in a dull, dark mass and uncoiled like a cascade full of bloody threads.  We parted the thick, soft, abundant locks, and found a swelling as large as a nut and pierced by an oval hole on the back of her head.  We shaved the surrounding parts; and after we had washed and stanched the wound, we melted some tallow and spread it over some lint, which we adapted to the swelling with strips of diachylum.  Over this we placed first a bandage, then the cotton band, and then the cap.  While this was taking place, the justice of the peace arrived.  The first thing he did was to ask for the rake, and the only thing he seemed to care about was to examine it.  He took hold of the handle, counted the teeth, waved it in the air, tested the iron and bent the wood.

“Is this,” he demanded, “the instrument with which the assault was committed?  Jerome, are you sure it is?”

“They say so, Monsieur.”

“You were not present, Monsieur le commissaire?”

“No, Monsieur le juge de paix.”

“I would like to know whether the blows were really dealt with a rake or whether they were given with a blunt instrument.  Who is the assailant?  And did the rake belong to him or to some one else?  Was it really with this that these women were hurt?  Or was it, I repeat, with a blunt instrument?  Do they wish to lodge a complaint?  What do you think about it, Monsieur le commissaire?”

The victims said little, remarking only that they suffered great pain; so they were given over night to decide whether or not they wished to seek redress by law.  The young girl could hardly speak, and the old woman’s ideas were muddled, seeing that she was drunk, according to what the neighbours intimated,—­a fact which explained her insensibility when we had endeavoured to relieve her suffering.

After they had looked at us as keenly as they could in order to ascertain who we were, the authorities of Pont-l’Abbe bade us good night and thanked us for the services we had rendered the community.  We put our things back into our satchel, and the commissaire departed with the garde, the garde with his sword, and the justice of the peace with the rake.

CHAPTER VIII.

ROAMING.

En route! the sky is blue, the sun is shining, and our feet are eager to tread on the grass.  From Crozon to Leudevenec the country is quite flat, and there is not a house nor a tree to be seen.  As far as the eye can reach, reddish moss spreads over the ground.  Sometimes fields of ripe wheat rise above the little stunted sea-rushes.  The latter are flowerless now, and look as they did before the